Artemisia
“Oh, my Goddess!” I breathe out, putting a hand on my chest.
A slender and pale woman stands in front of me as I turn around. Her white-blonde hair contrasts with the black gown she is wearing, her icy blue eyes inspect my face before she smiles feebly.
“You must be Missy,” she says, her tone gentle and melodic as she speaks, keeping her voice nerve-wracking calm. “I was eager to meet you.”
I take a deep breath, feeling my lungs fill back up to being able to speak. “And who are you?”
She just smiles, and after a strange look in the direction of Logan, she turns back at me. “I followed your scent all the way here. There is something that irks me.”
“I hope it’s not the fact that I stink,” I laugh awkwardly as I try to make a joke to alleviate the pressuring tension in t
